


mon copain suisse

by polkadot



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Conspiring Boyfriends, Foursome, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadot/pseuds/polkadot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan's not entirely sure how this happened. He's pretty sure it's Benoit and Rafa's fault, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mon copain suisse

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU snippet from the Stan/Benoit universe of [on that you can rely](http://archiveofourown.org/works/760711) and [becoming stanley](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767069). It should be able to be read on its own, but if you want the Stan/Benoit background, those fics will help (there's also a mini Stan/Benoit ship manifesto in the comments of the former).
> 
> As always, everything is ~actually in the appropriate languages and this is a translation. Also, this is set some unspecified distance in the future - it takes as its beginning the idea of Rafa and Benoit becoming friends in the upcoming Barcelona tournament, but I'm thinking this is some time after that, when nobody's injured and Benoit and Stan aren't quite as newly-together.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to the lovely people on Twitter, who partially inspired it by being intrigued at the Stan/Rafa pairing tag on [becoming stanley](http://archiveofourown.org/works/767069). Thanks, you guys. You're the best. :)

“So,” Stan asks Roger, “how did this happen again?”

Stan’s brain is having problems keeping up. He remembers dinner. He remembers coming up here for drinks. But how _that_ got to _this_ …

Arms wrap around him from behind, and a kiss lands on his shoulder. “This happened,” Benoit says in his ear, “because Rafa and I are very good boyfriends.”

“You’re bloody menaces, that’s what you are,” Stan says, but he’s abruptly too breathless to put much heat behind it.

Benoit tsks. “Such gratitude.” He switches to halting English. (How these two managed to plan something like this is beyond Stan – Rafa’s English has improved over the years but Benoit’s is still pretty basic.) “Rafa, Stan is not nice to us.”

From the doorway of the bathroom, Rafa laughs, and it’s a deep, rich chuckle, somehow different than Stan’s ever heard from him before. It’s not new to Roger, however, if the way he swallows is any indication, and Stan abruptly finds his own mouth going dry. 

“I think he be nice soon,” Rafa says, his footsteps approaching the bed.

Stan _knew_ that Benoit being stubborn and competing in Barcelona despite his assorted aches and pains was a bad idea. Granted, he’d thought that it might lead to a more serious injury, not to his boyfriend forming an unlikely friendship with Rafa Nadal and bonding in broken English over their Swiss…

(What _does_ Benoit call him, Stan wonders?)

Up by the pillows, Roger’s eyes go wide, and Stan twists around in time to see Rafa leaning in, eyes laughing, to claim a kiss from Benoit.

It’s unexpectedly hot – or, well, maybe it would have been _expectedly_ hot, except Stan’s only just now got used to the idea that Roger and Rafa are dating. He’s still processing the idea of what that _means_ , let alone the fact that they’re all four of them in Stan and Benoit’s hotel room, gathered around Stan and Benoit’s _bed_. He’s still thinking in italics, for fuck’s sake. So maybe he deserves a little slack on the whole “my boyfriend just kissed another man and holy hell was that hot” thing.

The two conspirators break apart and turn identical plotting looks towards the bed.

“Help,” Stan says to Roger. Though why Roger should have any answers, Stan doesn’t know.

Roger's eyebrows are more than a little amused. “They seem to have everything planned out perfectly.”

“What he say?” Rafa asks Benoit.

Benoit-the-translator sounds thrilled. “He say we win.”

“Winning is good,” Rafa says. “Boyfriends kissing is better.”

The two of them saunter around the enormous bed and plop down on the other side, Rafa with an arm around Benoit's waist, Benoit grinning in everyone's direction.

Rafa levels a look at Roger. “Kiss him, _guapo_.”

Stan’s not sure what that means, but it makes Roger colour, the spread of the blush disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, and suddenly all Stan knows is that he wants that shirt off as soon as possible.

He darts a guilty gaze at Benoit, but Ben only laughs at him and says, “You heard the man.”

Roger’s still sitting up by the pillows, one leg drawn up, his hands clasped around his knee. Stan looks at him for a long moment, feeling the weight of Roger’s look in return, then clears his throat. “Are you sure you’re all right with this, Rog?”

“Hey,” Benoit protests, but there’s a reason Stan’s using his limited Swiss-German. Stan ignores him.

“How...what,” Roger starts, then wrinkles his nose in irritation at his ineloquence. Stan’s nearly forgotten that particular face, classic though it’s always been, and he has to suppress a nervous snort; Roger raises an eyebrow at him, but looks a little more sure as he continues. “Would it help if I apologised?”

For being oblivious to Stan’s feelings? For not returning them? For flinching away when Stan finally recklessly kissed him? For being distant and awkward around Stan for years afterward – just a little, just enough to notice? For always, always overshadowing everything Stan does?

Some of those things Roger doesn’t need to apologise for, and for some of them he can’t. Stan shrugs, trying to convey nonchalance and acceptance all at once. “It’s over. We’re both happy now.”

“Yes,” Roger says. “Yes, we are.”

It’s that smile, the one he aims sideways at Rafa, that Stan always used to long to see turned towards himself. He feels a moment’s pang of jealousy, out-of-place and out-of-date – but then Benoit, still cuddled up next to Rafa, grins at him, and it’s instantly gone. How can he regret what didn’t happen, when it meant that this did?

“Enough _ach ja jawohl_ ,” Benoit says, adopting a hilariously thick accent. Rafa chuckles.

Stan makes a face at both of them, before jumping as the bed dips.

“If you won’t let me apologise,” Roger says, suddenly very close, still in Swiss-German, “how about you let me kiss you?”

It’s years too late, and yet right on time. Back then, they weren’t right for each other, and who knows what might have happened. Now, with their boyfriends sitting nearby…

“Fine, if you must,” Stan says, knowing his face will bely his blasé words.

Roger doesn’t roll his eyes, he’s not Benoit, but he sighs.

Then he kisses Stan.

Roger’s mouth tastes clean, and hot; it’s even hotter a minute later when Roger moves it to Stan’s collarbone because Rafa has waded in, not laughing now, to take a turn.

Rafa’s mouth tastes impatient, and eager; it’s even more eager a minute later when Rafa starts sucking under Stan’s jaw, because Benoit has waded in.

“Nggh,” Stan says, by which he means _Is this “torment Stanislas” day?_

For all their multilingual fluency, he doesn’t have much hope that anyone will understand him, but Benoit apparently speaks ‘Stan’s incoherent noises’. His grin has never been sunnier than when he leans down, hovering a breath away from Stan’s mouth (as Rafa works Stan’s pants open and Roger uses his teeth to investigate Stan’s nipple), to say, “Yes.”

Stan groans, and grabs the back of Benoit’s head to pull him in. He’d fist his hand in Benoit’s hair, but it’s too short; his fingers slip through it.

“Here,” Benoit says helpfully against his lips, before reaching up to grab Stan’s hand and relocate it to the back of Rafa’s head. “More hair.”

“Ben,” Stan starts, appalled, but Rafa raises his eyes from his assault on Stan’s clothing to grin up at him, and whatever Stan was going to say dies in his mouth.

“Is okay,” Rafa tells him, grinning even wider. “Rogi likes too.”

Roger – who’s _sucking on his nipple_ \- and then Rafa succeeds in his war on Stan’s clothes and gets that callused left hand inside Stan’s pants and wraps it around his cock –

Maybe Benoit being a stubborn bastard and competing in Barcelona despite an injured thigh and a sliced-open hand wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe Benoit forging an unexpected friendship with Rafa Nadal over their respective Swiss…

What _does_ Benoit call Stan? It’s a small thing, it’s not like he can call Stan anything beyond ‘doubles partner’ in public, and yet Stan still suddenly longs to know.

Right now, though, he’s having trouble longing for anything except for more, more, more, as Benoit kisses him into a puddle and Roger and Rafa have some sort of half-gestured, half-English conversation that seems to be an argument over who will get to suck Stan’s cock first. 

When they come to what looks like a mutual agreement, which turns out to be “how about we share”, Stan moans and stops thinking entirely.

Ben's grinning against his mouth, and Stan kisses him, dizzy and dazed and free.

~//~

Much later, after their guests have left, Benoit’s quiet for a moment, before tipping the side of his head against Stan’s. “What do I call you?” he echoes.

“Yes,” Stan says, trying not to sound like it matters. “To Rafa. What do you call me?”

Benoit’s fingers tickle where they lace with his own. “Mine.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Centre of the Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/783437) by [halotolerant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant)




End file.
